Ink
by ObookNorth
Summary: Set in an AU where Sherlock does not meet John at St. Bart's, he meets John while disguised as a Body Art Vendor at Camden Market. Intrigued by John, Sherlock agrees to a flatshare without revealing his identity as a genius detective.


(Note: Hello my amazing readers! This is a co-authored piece, between myself and the wonderful Eby who came up with the rp idea role-played it with me on omgle! We're having so much fun writing it, and have lots of great ideas for further chapters! The idea for this fic is based on another Sherlock Fanfic, "Mehndi" by Atlin Merrick, though ours is a little more serious. It is set in an AU where, instead of meeting in St. Bart's Lab, John and Sherlock meet while our favorite consulting detective is in disguise working at a body art stand at Camden Market.

As always, I don't own Sherlock.)

Sherlock waited in his booth at Camden market, wearing the persona of a bohemian market vendor. He was dressed undercover for the case he was on. A serial killer who was attracted to decorated skin. Each victim had intricate, artistic tattoos, henna or multiple piercings before death. After being killed the Serial Killer skinned the body art off the victim, presumably keeping it for himself. The fourth victim had been found yesterday, so Lestrade had finally called and Sherlock decided it was time to resort to his acting abilities to lure the killer to him. His toned alabaster skin was caressed with Mehndi that had been painted on that morning by a local artist and his wrists and ankles where adorned with wood and metal bracelet that clanked softly as he paced impatiently beneath the green canvas canopy of his stall. His icy blue eyes stood out with the charcoal smudged around them. He had ripped a soft grey t-shirt down the middle, knotting it at his waist so that his adorned chest was displayed in hopes that the killer would take the bait. He swung around at a soft murmur of voices behind him; a short woman with brown hair was teasingly threatening an equally short male companion with getting his ears pierced. Sherlock frowned, wishing for the umpteenth time this morning that impersonating a market vendor didn't actually mean he had to interact with other people.

"Look, I really don't do the whole jewelry thing Sarah, I don't want a piercing. Not... no. No. Not my cuppa tea." John Watson ran his finger-tips through his close cropped dishwater hair and leaned on his walking stick. He was just back from the army, had just found a part time job at a medical practice, and was slowly but surely figuring out how to function again on his own. Sarah had been a godsend, though she was more of a buddy than a date (he had tried to kiss her once, but she giggled as though it was a joke). He looked at the jewelry with interest, and avoided the gaze of the man with ice blue eyes at the stall was staring intently at them as though he was planning on attempting to make a particularly insistent sale.

Sherlock's eyes immediately found that the short, dirty blonde man seemed to be quite uncomfortable with his surroundings. He had to assume that every man approaching his stall was the killer, so ignoring the woman (the footprints by the bodies had been obviously male) he sauntered over and leaned on the counter, pointedly invading the man's personal space. "May I help you find something?" He smiled, showing his dimples which people at the receiving end of his acting skills had told him they found adorable.

"Just looking thanks." John stepped back nervously. Since the war he had taken some comfort in the time he spent alone, and he didn't really feel comfortable squished between so many people. He glanced around to find Sarah but she was off looking at brightly dyed skirts a few stalls over. Not wanting to show his momentary panic, he rubbed his sweaty palms on his jeans, licked his lips a few times and cleared his throat. Nervously he picked at some necklaces on display, biding his time until Sarah got came looking for him.

He tilted his head, the man was obviously uncomfortable with being in a crowd, possibly because of the noise, more likely because he didn't like the crush of bodies. From the nervous darting of his eyes back and forth, Sherlock realized that he was looking for someone, ah, his companion, but it wasn't just that. He was looking, perhaps subconsciously for a direction for his nervousness, as if he expected to find some sort of enemy in the crowd. PTSD. Possibly army. Returned recently, if the tan lines on his wrists were any indication. He decided to keep up his shopkeeper pretense on the off chance the man was connected with the murderer somehow, though it was rather doubtful. "Hey... are you alright?"

"Yes. Fine." John gave the taller man a slight glare and drew himself up to his full five feet six inches. He knew he occasionally gave the impression of helplessness due to his size and nervousness, and never backed down at the chance to assert himself.

Sherlock straightened and held up his hands defensively, "Alright... no harm done."

"Um, no. I suppose not." John looked over his shoulder again for Sarah, and let out a breath of irritation as he realized that he could no longer see her. "Oh damn, lost her."

He followed the man's eyes to where his companion had stood less than a minute ago, and then looked back down at him, "Friend abandon you? You're welcome to step inside a piercing booth while you wait..." He offered, in hopes of easing his symptoms, "At least for a few moments."

"Well, she needs to be able to see me if she comes back to find me, doesn't she?" He peeked behind the counter at a haphazard stack of Tupperware boxes. "Would you mind if I just stood back there? I wouldn't be any trouble."

"Not at all." He nodded toward the back. He walked toward the swinging wooden door and held it open for John to walk through.

"Ta, thanks mate." John limped around the back, and then stood awkwardly at ease behind the counter. "I can help you out if you need it, you know," he murmured, slightly intimidated by being so close to the tall, exotic looking man. "Err, I mean, I can price things." He waved his hand at the necklaces awkwardly.

Sherlock smiled at him, "That's very kind of you." He nodded his gratitude and went back to the counter. His trained eyes scanned the man quickly... army confirmed by the at-ease position, back too recently to have been involved with the murders from the start... definitely not his killer, unlikely to be anyone closely associated with him. "My name is Sherlock."

"Sherlock?" John grinned. "Interesting name that. Doesn't quite go with your occupation, does it? Sounds more like the name of some young lord or something... sorry! Didn't mean it... oh bother." John took a deep breath. "My name is John. Watson."

Interesting. Had John just intuitively deduced Sherlock's family background? "Nice to meet you, John..." He straightened a display of bangles, "And you're not far off... my father was of nobility."

"Oh? And you... sell jewelry? Rebellious youth or some such thing?"

He huffed out a laugh. This was interesting, John really was good, but he didn't seem to be conscious of it at all. "A decade or so ago I rebelled... I guess I never wanted to go back."

John grinned. "No harm there. I guess this is much more relaxing. I can't imagine what living in nobility would be like. Does your family own an estate or something?"

"A few actually... although I doubt I'd be welcomed back." He raised an eyebrow.

John laughed outright. "You sound like such a pompous git. You know if you took off all that make-up and those bracelets you'd be a completely different person."

Sherlock grinned inwardly, and murmured, "You have no idea..."

John just shook his head in a mixture of disbelief and amusement, and Sherlock turned back to the tedium of displaying necklaces. Apparently John's power of seeing right through people… or at least seeing right through Sherlock… had limits. He was curious to see what those limits were, and mentally began to prepare a series of experiments that it was unlikely he'd ever get a chance to perform that would push John's intuitive deductions to their limit. Oblivious to the other's scheming; John sat in companionable silence in the shade of the canopy. Now that he was out of the crush of the crowd the doctor was proving to be an enormous asset, approaching customers for Sherlock and talking to them until a sale was inevitable.

Then the army doctor's brow wrinkled as he saw a figure behind Sherlock who was staring with specific interest at the detective. "Hey, looks as though you have a customer."

"Oh..." Sherlock turned and eyed the man, "Can I help you?"

The man was tall, muscular, and young with a buzz cut that accentuated large brown eyes and wore a white ribbed wife-beater. For half a second he stared at Sherlock with predatory lust in his eyes. His mouth curled up in a grin, and he leaned forward over the table... And then became a completely different person. His eyes gentled, his mouth softened, as though Sherlock was the most exquisite thing in existence. He held out a shark tooth necklace. "Hey, I'd just like to buy this, okay mate?"

Sherlock smiled suggestively while scanning him... fine candidate for a killer but not sure yet, there had been little in the way of clues at the scene of the crime... He let his long fingers feather against the man's as he took the necklace, "Fine choice..." They made the transaction, "Would you like a bag?"

At Sherlock's smile the man looked softly into the other man's eyes. John raised both his eyebrows. "No thanks. I'll put it on right now." He hesitated, and then flirtatiously reached out and touched some of his mehndi right above Sherlock's naval gently stroking along the curve of the figure. "Does this design mean anything?"

He looked down where the man was touching him on his toned stomach and fought the urge not to strike him. Serial killer was looking likely, but copping a feel wasn't sufficient for a murder charge. "... this particular design is for spiritual protection."

John could see mild distaste in his new friend's face, and good-naturedly plastered a smile on his face and stared the large man down confidently. "Yeah, all that voo-doo that you doo-doo love. Come over here sweetheart and show me how to price the trinkets that you sell."

Sherlock was brought out of his musings and glanced at John with a smirk, "Yes sir..." He saluted. He turned back to the man and smiled apologetically, "Forgive me... duty calls."

The big man rolled his eyes and chuckled, walking away and muttering something about an odd pair. When Sherlock came over and knelt by the box John was rummaging around in, John rolled his eyes. "You know if you covered up a bit you wouldn't get so much unwanted attention." He hesitated and sighed. "I hope nobody else saw that. Me, chatting you up out here in public; people might talk."

"People do little else..." He chuckled.

John punched him good-naturedly in the arm. "Hey, you don't know anyone looking for a flatmate do you? I've been working part-time for a bit now, and have a pension... I'm looking to move out of the rat-cage they have me in on the base and find something a bit more comfortable."

Sherlock's eyes darted over at John. He had been looking for someone to share a flat with, but he couldn't imagine this sweet, kind John clashing with his normally abrasive personality. This bohemian eye-candy personality was an act, and Sherlock could only put on acts for so long before his usual sociopathy and irritated genius asserted itself. Perhaps he could tell John later or perhaps he could test himself and see how long he could last 'in character'. It would also give him ample opportunity to study the fascinating way John's mind worked. "I've been looking for a flatmate, yeah... Actually I've been bunking here." He blushed.

"What, on the street? Dressed like that? You're barking."

"No..." He feigned the defensive, "... in my booth... that's not on the streets."

John held up both his hands. "It's your life. But yeah, if you want to do the flat-mate thing I think we'd probably get along rather nicely. Have your eye on anything?"

Sherlock smiled, "There is a place on Baker St..." He frowned, remembering, "What about your lady friend? Don't you live with her?" Of course John didn't... She would have been back for him ages ago if she had a romantic attachment to him, but Sherlock wanted to see what his reaction would be.

"Oh, no, that's Sarah. She thinks I'm as big a poof as we're acting." John scowled briefly. "Sorry, that came out wrong. I don't have anything against that. It's all fine. It's just a little frustrating as I really like her."

"You don't seem like a 'poof' to me." He leaned against the counter, "Might want to be careful with that one, darling." (He dragged the endearment out ironically, aware that serious flirting could drive very straight John away, even though John kept staring into his eyes and flicking his tongue over his lips.) "If she doesn't seem interested now, I predict heart break in the future... and if that happens, she doesn't deserve you."

John snorted at the 'darling'. "Well thanks. It's the being nice. You can't just be a nice man now-a-days it seems, if you're a softy girls seem to think you're not masculine. But it's all right, I'm not holding out hope." He pulled out a little notepad from his pocket and wrote down a number. "Here, give me a ring if that place looks promising."

Sherlock took the paper and smiled, "I will... thank you, John."

At that moment, Sarah came surging out from the crowd, and waved when she saw John. "There you are, you! What have you gotten yourself into this time?" She looked at Sherlock a little skeptically, then grabbed John by the elbow and pulled him away. "Come on, let's grab lunch on me, okay?"

He huffed out a laugh while shaking his head, "Goodbye John."

John grinned and waved at him over his shoulder.

OoOoOoOoOoOo

There was a rather dry spell around 10am at Sherlock's booth. He glanced around the street and when he didn't see anybody approaching his stand, he pulled out his phone.

Hi.. it's Sherlock from Camden. The potential flat we spoke about is actually quite nice. Care to take a peak later? - S

_Sure, what time? - JW_

_I close up for lunch around 1pm - S_

_Okay, I have work until 3; so any time after that. - JW_

_Hmm... perhaps my dinner break then? 5 sound alright? - S_

_Perfect. Where is it? - JW_

_221 B Baker St - S_

_All right then. See you there - JW_


End file.
